


Cold as Ice

by suliel



Category: Dragonlance Chronicles
Genre: Drabble, F/M, One Shot, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 08:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13477455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suliel/pseuds/suliel
Summary: Short writing exercise; Raistlin and Caramon compete to convince a stranger to share their inn room with them for a night.





	Cold as Ice

Caramon and Raistlin wandered into the roadside tavern, Caramon stooping low to keep from bumping his head on the low beams of the sloping room. It was hard not to compare the establishment to the one they’d left behind; it was certainly dimmer, smaller, and less homely.  
But it was warm and safer than the road at night— and with a winter storm on the horizon, Caramon wanted anything but Raistlin on the road at night.  
They went up to the innkeeper and Caramon cleared his throat, catching the crotchety old man’s attention.  
“Room for two, please. One night.”  
The old man eyed Caramon for a moment before turning to look Raistlin up and down, raising a brow before shaking his head.  
“We have no more rooms free, unless you don’t mind sharing with a third.”  
Caramon was about to protest when Raistlin cut him short.  
“Who would we have to room with,” He hissed quickly. At best, they could ignore their unwelcome roommate until the storm passed. At worst, he put them out with a spell and then ignored them until the storm passed.  
“There’s only one room that can fit two more people,” The old man mumbled quietly. “Hers. She got here first after the storm arrived. Lord knows we don’t get overnight guests otherwise.”  
He pointed to a dark smear by the fire; a woman cloaked in dark, foreign clothing. There was a leather-bound book on her table, her hand delicately perced atop to hold the pages open. She wasn’t reading or writing in it, however; her eyes had been captivated by the petulant fire, the flames drowsy and barely large enough to warm the entire room.  
“Who is that?” Caramon demanded immediately, suspicious of the strange woman.  
“You think we have regulars, way out here on the road to nowhere?” He cackled bitterly. “All I can tell you is that she rode in on a gorgeous black steed and paid in solid gold beads. I know better than to ask more than I ought be told.”  
There were a few moments of terse silence as the three stared after the foreign stranger; her face couldn’t quite be seen as it was turned mostly away from them and towards the fire, and her hair was draped over with a sheer black veil that had an iridescent green glimmer in the firelight.  
“Well,” The innkeeper cleared his throat and broke the strange spell of silence on the group. “If she so tolerates it, I can set you up in her room. But you’ll have to convince her first.”  
The old man ambled away with another sharp cackle.  
“Good luck with that!”  
Caramon looked over; from what he saw, she seemed to be a lovely image, and he thought it might be easy for him to woo her into letting them stay the night in the same room.  
“I got this,” He immediately announced, adjusting his belt and shaking his head a bit. Raistlin shot him a dark look, displeased with how, as usual, Caramon was ready to jump in with all his brawn and bravery without first investigating the situation. But he relented and watched silently as Caramon sauntered towards her table, more curious to see how it would go than annoyed with his brother’s rash eagerness to prove his skill.  
Caramon slid into the chair opposite the woman’s, grinning dashingly.  
“You look like you’d fancy a hot drink to go with that book,” He offered warmly. “I could arrange that for you.”  
She exhaled dryly and slowly turned to face him and he found an uncomfortable flutter in his stomach as he met her eyes. They were dead cold and paler than winter storm clouds, and so low with annoyance that not a single mote of light was reflected within them.  
“Do I?” She questioned in an incredibly coarse and heavily-accented tone. “Because right now, I quite fancy silence.”  
She narrowed her eyes further and Caramon backed off, clearing his throat and rising out of the seat, bowing his head in apology.  
“Forgive me for bothering you.”  
Raistlin stood away, an eyebrow raised, before chucking to himself dryly as Caramon was rather stiffly shut down. While his failure was contrary to their success, it was still no doubt entertaining to see his brother’s advances fall flat for once.  
Caramon returned to Raistlin and began speaking, though Raistlin was more concerned with observing the cold stranger.  
“It’s no use, she’s cold as steel. We’ll just have to wait down here in the tavern, I’ll keep watch while you rest, and come dawn when the storm passes we can head out again—“  
Raistlin moves his staff from one hand to another, having spotted enough things about the stranger to build a solid plan on.  
“My turn,” He murmured, cutting his brother off and starting towards the stranger. Caramon opened his mouth to protest, but it fell silent, not wanting to speak against his brother. Still, he felt a pang of displeasure as his brother moved out of his immediate area and towards the fireplace; if Raistlin failed, it would have been Caramon’s fault in his mind for not succeeding first and preventing his brother the trouble— if Raistlin succeeded... well, it would be a fair blow to his pride, wouldn’t it?  
Raistlin quietly approached and stood over the empty seat, leaning on his staff with his head lowered towards the table.  
“Herbology?” He commented softly, gesturing towards the book on the table. He had taken the time to peer at the pages and see that it was peppered with pressed-dry blooms and sketches of stalks and leaves, as well as scattered, handwritten script tracing around the blooms and sketches.  
She turned her head in sharp annoyance at first, but then looked between Raistlin and the book and a suspicious but curious expression softened the furrow between her brows.  
“Mostly poetry, actually,” She corrected quietly, a finger tracing the curve of a petal secured to the page. “Though... yes, I am studying herbology.”  
“Ah, I see,” Raistlin commented softly, indicating that he was paying her close attention as he slid into the empty seat. “...May I?”  
She raised her brows in surprise then, but shrugged lightly and gestures with her hand.  
“...be my guest.”  
He settled into the chair and took the moment to observe her appearance; she had rich, warm skin, dark, wavy hair, and her clothing was draping and loose. Her belt was strung with bundles of herbs and small pouches.  
“You’re a green witch?” He probed lightly. She offered him a surprised and fairly admiring expression and nodded.  
“Yes... And you, a mage?”  
He laughed dryly and nodded.  
“I am. What brings you traveling so far from the East?”  
There was a surprised twinkle in her eyes when he hinted that he knew where she was from.  
“Oh? Aren’t you the observative one,” She commented lightly before sliding into a comfortable laugh. “I come in search of new knowledge.”  
Caramon watched in surprise and awe as the stone-cold woman loosened up and warmed up to his brother. When she laughed, he all but dropped his pack in shock.  
They talked a while, and Caramon watched as she showed him passages from her book and he showed her a few of his own magical belongings.  
After a few minutes of shared fascination, their easygoing banter was interrupted by a ragged bout of coughing, Raistlin covering his mouth with his sleeve.  
"Are you alright?" She offered immediately. "What ails you?"  
He finally reached the end of his coughs and waved Caramon back; his brother had begun to rush to his side.  
The woman looked between the two, her arm half-extended towards Raistlin in quiet concern. Raistlin observed and exactly deconstructed her behavior, grinning to himself. She was wandering exactly where he wanted her to— of her own volition, nonetheless.  
"Nothing that can be healed... But... I hope you can forgive my brother's previous... Forwardness," He noted, pulling her attention back away from his brother. "He really means no harm; he can... Be a bit reckless."  
"Your brother?" She asked in shock, her eyes looking up to Caramon before returning to Raistlin. She gave a short, incredulous laugh, her smoked-out eyes bright and clear. "Adopted?"  
"No. Believe it or not... We're twins."  
"Twins?" She asked with a hint of awe. "So... One took the all the cleverness and wit and the other—"  
"Good health."  
She stopped dead, her expression dark before she spoke again.  
"I didn't mean..."  
"No, it's true," He stated bitterly, drawing her in. Green witches... Empathy is their greatest strength and their most foolhardy weakness. "He... Cares for me. In truth, I'm afraid he only bothered you in the hopes that he could convince you to let us stay in your room for the night."  
Her eyes flickered to the window as heavy snowfall fell upon the shutters.  
"He didn't want you out in the storm."

She looked up at Caramon and the annoyed bitterness she had withheld for him before dissipated a bit. Whatever had upset her about his behavior had been overruled by her new image of him as caring for his brother, and she spoke gently without looking away from him.  
"I suppose if we spend the night together you'll need to know my name. Lailah."  
Raistlin grinned from ear to ear, wickedly prideful. He had beaten his brother at this game.  
"Raistlin," He started slowly, before pointing to his brother. "And Caramon."


End file.
